


Suffer for my SIns - Chapter 2

by fvckingavengers



Series: Suffer for my Sins [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), DCU, DCU (Comics), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Superman - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, F/M, Oral Sex, Smut, mafia!au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26054443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvckingavengers/pseuds/fvckingavengers
Summary: You’re the adopted daughter of Tony Stark, one of the most powerful and infamous mobsters of the greater north eastern region. After his death, it was his wish that the reigns be handed over to you. There’s been a rivalry between your family, and that of Steve Rogers and Clark Kent. When the New York mafia is threatened, the three of you will have to put aside your differences and work together.
Relationships: Clark Kent & Reader, Clark Kent/Reader, Steve Rogers & Reader, Steve Rogers/Reader
Series: Suffer for my Sins [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851919
Comments: 7
Kudos: 45





	Suffer for my SIns - Chapter 2

**Author's Note:**

> please, p l e a s e, take a second to give some feedback! it means a lot and keeps me writing and creating content for y'all!

“You two didn’t have to come over and babysit me, you know.” You sigh, sitting at the breakfast nook with a steaming cup of coffee.

The midmorning sun shines though spotless windows and warms your skin. There have been people coming and going through the apartment since 7 am. First the contractors to rip out the carpet and replace the floor with marble tile, then the team to install the new security system.

Clint and Natasha stopped by as well, with bagels as a bargain for you to let them stay over a while. Probably Sam’s doing, but Clint was bound to find out what happened last night sooner or later.

“We’re not here to babysit,” Natasha shakes her head and offers a soft, kind smile. “Just to hang out for a bit. Catch up.”

She tries. You applaud her efforts and try not to let the fact that your older brother’s fiancé is the former girlfriend of your family’s rival create tension. But trust doesn’t come easy to you. It never has.

_Critical, cynical, and incredulous._

Those were the words the used to describe you by the foster system’s psychologist. Although Tony found you and the adoption was finalized by the time you were seven and a half, words still fuck kids up and rot inside of their brains for the rest of their days.

You try to rid yourself of the thought. No need to fall down that rabbit hole now.

“Are you okay?” Clint’s voice is soft as he runs a hand over your hair affectionately.

Clint has always looked out for you. Not that Sam hasn’t, but while Sam was the logical, left-brained, “You need to learn your lesson” type of big brother; Clint is always first to your defense. Basically, he babies you. Always has and probably always will.

“Sam said you got a little banged up last night.” Clint looks over you for any marks of insignia.

You have to stifle a snort at his phrasing. You got banged up, alright. A cold shower with Bucky was the best way to start your morning before he had to leave for work and your company arrived.

“I’m fine, really. Stepped on some glass and I’ll have a scar on my thigh from the gunshot. Could’ve been worse.”

It almost goes unseen, but Clint exchanges a glance with Natasha before turning to look at you full on. “Maybe-“

“If you say, “Maybe you shouldn’t stay here on your own”, I’m gonna fuckin’ scream.” You roll your eyes and spread some butter on your sesame seed bagel. “I heard it from Sam, I heard it from Bucky, I really don’t need to hear it from you, too. I get it, I’m a woman - they think I’m a pathetic little vulnerable bitch. Mark my words, if any stupid fuck decides to invade my home again, I’ll use them as an example. I’ll fuck their shit up so bad, and spread the word around town, people will be more afraid of me than they are the goddamn grim reaper.”

Natasha looks at you with wide eyes, but there’s a slight gleam in them. She’s impressed. “You’re genuinely terrifying.”

“Good.” You say before taking a large bite of your breakfast.

“Dad taught her well.” Clint sighs heavily.

Like Sam, Clint took on a noble profession. An attorney practicing mostly in family law. That’s not to say that he doesn’t use his connections in the judicial system to get you out of trouble if necessary.

There’s a knock at the door, despite the fact that it’s been open for the last half hour while the sensors are being installed. A dark haired, middle aged man peeks his head in and waves in greeting.

“Sal! C’mon in.” You smile brightly, moving past your brother to get to the man.

Salvatore Vulcano and his father have been your family’s weapon distributor for as long as you can remember. Sal was the one who trained you in weaponry when you were merely ten years old.

“Whatcha got for me?” You watch as he opens his “brief case”.

“What don’t I got for ya?” He chuckles and turns the case toward you. “Knives, handguns, grenades. Brought the catalog, too. If you see something you like, I can bring it over from the warehouse.”

A smile tugs at the corners of your mouth as you toss one of the grenades in the air and catch it in your palm. It’s a wicked smile. Unsettling to those around you.

“I’ll take the whole case. I’ll thumb through the catalog, but see if you can get me a few rifles. Big ones.” You hand Sal an envelope from the back pocket of your jeans that you’d prepared before his arrival.

He skims through the bills and his brows furrow. “There’s about two grand more than what we charge in here.”

Sal tries to hand the extra cash back to you but you shake your head. “I know what I put. Keep it.” You look him in the eye and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze. “I take care of those who take care of me.”

Sam nods and smiles. “Thank you.” He pockets the envelope and makes his way towards the front door. “I’ll come by during the week with those firearms. Take care now, you hear?”

You wave after Sal and converse with the installation guy before closing the door and facing Clint and Natasha. “You two gotta get to leaving, too. I got some business to take care of.”

“You goin’ after the people that did this, aren’t you?” Clint questions, helping Natasha with her jacket.

“Well I’m sure as hell not gonna let it just roll off my back, now am I?”

“Do you know who’s goons came after you last night?” Natasha asks.

You cross your arms over your chest and purse your lips. “I’ve got my suspicions.” That statement makes Clint uneasy. You peck his cheek and walk the couple out. “I’ll be fine. Promise. I’m not going anywhere guns blazing. Just gonna pursue some leads.”

Clint stops in the doorway before you could usher him all the way out. “Just—just be careful, okay? I love you.” He presses a gentle kiss to your temple before joining his fiancé by the elevator.

“Love you, too.” You call after, watching as they step into the lift before shutting the door and heading to get ready.

\- -

Atlantic City.

The mockup wanna be of Sin City on the east coast.

Clark’s territory.

He owns five casinos and three resorts on the strip. It’s where he spends his leisure time. After weeks of going back and forth from Bayonne, to Hoboken, to Staten Island, working relentlessly; he spends every other weekend here. Soaking up the sun in the mornings on the beach and hustling money from poor chumps on vacation who don’t know who he is or the power he holds in the evening.

11:47 pm.

You knew where to find him.

The Fortress.

The biggest, most lavish and upscale casino on this side of the States. You dressed to the occasion - a long sleeved, floor length green dress that parts in the middle of the bust, putting your chest on display. Your gold heels clack against the marble floor, but its not your ensemble that earns you looks and gasps as you pass tables of patrons. It’s your presence.

The innocent visitors may not know who you or Clark are, but the locals do. The celebrities, the elite business owners, and socialites are all well aware of the feud that lies over the boroughs.

Stories and rumors of your families, as well as Steve’s, had been told for years and years. The only time any of the three of you were seen in the same vicinity was for a gala thrown by a politician or an event or birthday extravaganza of one of Hollywood’s stars.

But never publicly crossing into the territory of another mob boss.

It’s quite the scandal.

He spots you from the back of the casino. The poker table where the big boys play. You can feel his eyes burning holes into your figure from your spot at the end of the bar.

You don’t meet his stare.

You know it’ll drive him crazy to act aloof.

You’re barely three sips into your martini when the lights become dim from behind you and a shadow casts on the wall beside you. But Clark’s signature scent doesn’t fell your senses.

“Bruce,” You smile politely when your chair turns to face him. “Long time, no see.”

Bruce Wayne. Clark’s right hand man. You both shared a drunken night together four years ago that both of you hardly remember.

Bruce says your name in a whisper, not wanting to draw more attention than you already have to yourself. “What are you doing here?”

“I was in the area.” His expression says that he doesn’t buy into your bullshit. You sigh and roll your eyes. “I need to talk to your boss.”

“About what?”

“You’re not privy to that knowledge.” You narrow your eyes. “Look, I’m not here under ill intensions. Scout’s honor.” You raise your hand and blink rapidly, giving him puppy dog eyes before your lips curl into a devilish grin. “You can search me if you wanna.”

He clears his throat and adverts his gaze when you roll your shoulders back to accentuate your chest.

“That won’t be necessary. Just—“ He looks around, slightly nervous. “Come with me.” Bruce turns on his heel and you get up to follow, leaving a hundred dollar bill beneath the coaster of your empty glass.

You’re escorted to Clark’s office. Been told to wait here and not to venture off. To confirm your suspicion, you try to open the door, but it doesn’t budge. You couldn’t leave if you wanted to.

But luckily, this is exactly where you wanted to be.

The office is about the size of a studio apartment. Dark gray walls. Wall of windows overlooking the rest of the city. A desk in the middle with a card table off to one side and a billiards table on the other. A sectional and comfy chairs areset up for meetings, so you assume.

An hour later, Clark unlocks and opens the door, seeing the back of his desk chair turned to him and your arm extended, swirling a crystal glass of scotch in your hand.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” He says sternly, making goosebumps rise on your arms. “Had to finish my game.”

“You’re not sorry.” You spin the chair to face him and raise a brow. “You wanted to clear the place out and pay off anyone who saw me here.” You down the rest of the amber liquid and play with a cube of ice on your tongue as you smile smugly. “How much did I cost ya?”

Clark’s face remains stoic as he unbuttons the cuffs of his dress shirt. “Too much, little girl.”

You reprimand your body for betraying your mind and involuntarily shivering at the sound of the name he calls you. The solidified water crunches between your teeth and you lick over your lips.

“What if I give you a chance to win some of it back?” You offer, watching as he moves closer.

Your head tilts up to look at him as he puts one hand at the top of the chair and the other on the desk, leaning in until you can smell the liquor and smoke on his breath. “Why don’t you tell me why the fuck you’re here to begin with? Then we’ll see about playing games.”

Your lips purse as you stare into the icy blues of his irises. “There was an attempt to end my life last night.”

“I heard.” Of course he did. News travels as fast as the speed of light, especially when you wish they’d remain under wraps. Clark straightens his back and rolls his neck after undoing the top button of his shirt. “What? You think I had something to do with it?”

“You asked why I’m here.” You kink a brow and look up at him through your painted lashes. “It sure ain’t for the all you can eat buffet.”

Clark smirks, the right corner of his mouth curling upward. You cross your legs to clench your thighs. The action doesn’t go unnoticed. “What was that you were saying at dinner the other night? About being impersonal?” He cocks his head to the side and gently takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger. “Sweetheart, we’ve known each other since we were kids. I wouldn’t waste my time with hitmen.” The tip of his thumb coasts the curve of your bottom lip. “If I wanted to kill ya, I’d take care of you myself.”

Keeping your eyes on his, you open your mouth a little wider, taking his thumb between your teeth and biting playfully. “Promise?”

“Swear.” He smirks, taking a seat at the edge of his desk. “Now, about what you cost me tonight…”

“Afraid I gave all my cash to that cute bartender.” You drum your nails against the mahogany surface and shrug a shoulder. “Would you take something else as collateral?”

Clark’s smug demeanor vanishes at the realization of your vague proposal. He looks at you with wide eyes, mouth slightly ajar. He blinks slowly and licks over his lips. “What exactly are you offering?”

His gaze remains unmoving as you get up from his chair and stand between his parted knees, maintaining enough distance that your perfume only tickles his sense of smell. He finds himself craving to feel more of your body heat.

“How open is your relationship with Diana?” Your eyes are trained on his mouth as he wets his lips with his tongue.

He watches your hand as your fingers dance over the bend of his knee. His knuckles turn white from his grip on the edge of the desk. Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat before he speaks. “So open that she’s with another guy right now.” Your nails lightly rake up his linen clad thighs, feeling the muscles spasm beneath your ministrations. He mumbles your name sternly, but softly. A strained warning. You keep your hand still at the top of his leg, but you don’t remove it.

“This - I - we -“ He shakes his head and knits his brow, unable to piece together his jumbled thoughts. “I can’t.”

“Can’t? Or won’t?” You tease. You lose a few inches when you step out of your heels before nestling further into the tight space between Clark’s thighs. “You can try to lie to me and say that you don’t want me, but the massive bulge in your slacks says different.”

He fights against his own will to not look at you, keeping his head ducked down and sight on the patterns on the tiled floor. “You’re a Stark.” His voice is strained, as if it pains him to say your name. “My father and yours will rise up from the dead to haunt me.”

Even Clark isn’t sure if his statement was meant as a joke, but you’re the only one who shows amusement in it.

“Are you always so dramatic?” You grin, keeping your head and eyes up as your fingers undo the rest of the buttons on his shirt. “What’s an old family rivalry compared to the high of sexual gratification?” Once his shirt is open, exposing his defined pectorals and abdomen beneath a layer of dark chest hair, he watches you for your next move. To see if you’re really going to make that leap and reach lower for the clasp of his dress pants. “But I guess if you’re not interested, I’ll just be on my way,”

You turn on your heel but you’re stopped with a hand enclosing around your wrist. You wipe the smirk off your face before looking at him over your shoulder. His bottom lip struggles between the weight of his professionally whitened teeth. He looks at you through his lashes. He’s timid. You’re taken back to your teenage years when you were just a couple of kids in school.

“Swear not to tell anyone?” He asks softly.

You huff and roll your eyes. “Please. Who am I gonna boast about giving you a blowjob to? I hate you too, remember? This is strictly about sex.”

“I always did wonder if the rumors that Arthur Curry and the swim team spread around school were true.” It could be a trick of the light, but you could swear that Clark was blushing from the admittance.

Your fingers pull at the leather strap of his belt and pop the button before sliding the zipper down its track. “Baby, you can bet I’ve gotten better with age.”

Clark watches your hands carefully. One rests on his upper thigh, massaging gently, while the other rests on his erection, slowly and far too softly gliding up and down. You apply a little more pressure as you fondle is balls, and he releases a shaky breath.

His chest heaves, the warmth of his breath fans over your face. “Fucking hell,” He groans, almost splitting the grain in the wood beneath him, rucking his hips to follow your hand when your nails lightly scratch along the underside of his cloth covered cock.

“C’mere,” He grunts, gripping the back of your neck and crashing his mouth into yours. Bruising force. Your lips tingle and you can feel them start to swell. He emits a sharp cry when your fist closes around his tip and your teeth sink into his full bottom lip. You’re not fighting for dominance, but you let him know that you won’t be bowing into submission.

You lower yourself to your knees, locking eyes with Clark as your fingers hook into his pants and the band of his well fitted briefs. He chuckles at your reaction once he’s sprung from his clothes, wide eyed with your jaw dropped.

He tenses again when you touch him again, this time skin on skin contact. Your fingers are cool against his burning flesh.

“How the hell do you walk around with this thing?”

A chuckle turns into a strangled moan when you give a light, teasing suck to the head before pressing your tongue to his base and slowly trailing up. You repeat the action until every inch of his shaft is coated in your saliva, making it easy for you to jack him off in your fist while you suck one ball, then the other into your mouth. Clark’s knees buckle when you give them a taught tug.

He makes such pretty sounds while he’s coming undone at the seams just from the work of your mouth. Soft whimpers as your wrist twists around his tip. Gruff grunts turn into growls when you take him into the wet warmth of your mouth. You gag when he thrusts his hips forward, but you push through it, swallowing around him and letting him fuck your throat.

“Well, if this ain’t the prettiest sight I ever did see.” He smiles breathlessly, stroking your jaw with his thumb.

You look up at him with glossy eyes, but your mascara never runs with the tears that roll down you cheeks. Clark rests a large hand on the back of your skull, but he doesn’t urge you deeper. He lets you control how much of him you take at a time. The gesture is almost…tender.

“Your reputation precedes you, pretty girl.” Instead of answering, you wrap both of your hands around his shaft to work in tandem to get him closer to his peak. He curses loudly, his head tilting back as he cries out your name. “Shit, I’m gonna cum. I’m gonna cum now.”

You raise a challenging brow, as if to silently say, ‘then do it’. Your actions never cease or slow down, and he takes it as a green light to let go. Warm and thick. Salty with just a hint of sweetness that makes it easy to swallow his load without much force.

Your knees ache. You know they’ll be bruised for a day or two, but you don’t mind. Clark offers you a hand, but you rise to your feet on your own. You slip into your shoes and grab your bag before pressing a chaste kiss to his cheek.

“See you Wednesday, Kent. My place. 8 o’clock.”

The door clicks behind you. Clark sighs heavily and drags a hand down his face before bending to pull his pants back up.

\- -

Your brothers didn’t like that you would venture on your own at night. Bucky didn’t either. And maybe you did it just to spite them. Well, partly. The truth, you would never admit aloud. That the loneliness drove you up a wall. The deafening silence in your apartment made your ears bleed and your insides ache. Though you had made over every inch of your new apartment from top to bottom, your father’s ghost still lingered. Even from the great beyond, he still makes his presence known.

You had to get out.

Dusky haze settles over the sky, a purple blue blanket stretched out for miles as far as the eye can see. Headlights, traffic lanterns, and street lamps illuminate your path. The heels that click on the pavement pinch your feet a little. The price of beauty is high, and you have an image to uphold. You don’t mind it all that much, anyway.

It’s grown chillier as evening drifts into nighttime. You cross the street to get to the small bistro there. It looks cozy and quaint. ‘American Noir’ is written in big letters on the exterior. You’d heard rave reviews when it opened last month. It was as good a place as any to rest your feet and warm up a little.

The maître d’ accommodates your request for a table in the back. Your waiter is cute, in that boy next door kinda way. He looks out of place. Like he came to the city from a small town in Iowa in hopes of pursuing a career in acting. You order a double whiskey on the rocks. He blushes as he walks away after you give him a playful wink, catching him peeking at your breasts as you shrug out of your coat.

“You here to cause trouble, ma’am?” A voice, much deeper than the boy in his early twenties who previously waited on you asks.

Your brows knit as you look up at the man speaking to you, but your lips curl into a soft smile when you meet a familiar pair of ocean eyes. “Not tonight. I’m off the clock.”

“Well, in that case,” Steve takes a seat in the empty chair on the other side of the small round table. “Peter,” Steve calls to the waiter when he brings over your drink. “Bring us an order of truffle fries, would you?” Peter nods and rushes to the back to put in the order. “Out of all the restaurants in the whole city, you had to come waltzing into mine, huh?” He grins, sipping from his own glass.

“You own this place?” You raise a brow, tapping your nails on the side of the whiskey tumbler. “It’s a little out of your jurisdiction, huh? I know I was out for a long walk, but I’m fairly certain I didn’t cross over the Brooklyn Bridge.” Your head tilts. “Which means, you’re on my turf, buddy.”

Steve runs his tongue over his teeth and slightly narrows his eyes. “Now see, I thought you said you were off the clock?”

You lean forward with your elbows on the table. “Stevie, you and I both know there is no such thing as ‘off the clock’ in the business we’re in.” You shift in your chair and take a long swig of the chilled alcohol that spreads warmth throughout your extremities. “But I can bust your balls about it another day. M’not in the mood to talk shop.”

A plate of steaming thick cut fries, drenched in honey, with large slices of melted parmesan cheese sporadically placed on top is placed between the two of you. Steve takes the first bite.

“Heard about the break-in at your place a few nights ago.”

“Don’t really wanna talk about that either.” You sigh, carefully choosing a fry and watching the cheese stretch as you pull it from the bunch. “But since you brought it up—“

“It wasn’t me.” He insists before you can even politely accuse him. He looks straight at you, eyes focused and unmoving. “I get that you have every reason to think otherwise, but I didn’t have anything to do with it.” He sucks a bit of sticky honey from his thumb. “Besides, when I send someone to do a job, they’re successful.”

You probably shouldn’t find humor in the situation, but you snort. “Good to know.”

“How’ve you been sleeping?” Your brows knit from his odd question. He shakes his head and pops another fry into his mouth. “My mom used to stay awake for a solid week someone would bypass security at the mansion or an attempt on my father’s life was made. She invested stock in Valium. Can’t imagine what it’s like for a woman alone.”

He instantly grimaces from the way his statement sounded as soon as it left his lips. You wave it off.

“I upped my security system and contacted my weapons guy. I’ll be fine.”

Something in your voice tips Steve off that you’re forcing yourself to believe the last three words of your sentence. That, and you don’t meet his eyes as you spoke them.

Dropping the topic, Steve dabs at his mouth with the cloth napkin on his lap. “It’s awful cold out there. Can I give you a ride home?”

You grin and lick some of the salty sweet substance from your fingers. “That’s very kind of you to offer. But aren’t you worried about the wrath of your late father’s ghost?”

He chuckles at that. “My father raised me to be ruthless, but my mother raised me to be a gentleman. If it’s anyone’s wrath I fear, its her’s.”

“Then I accept.” You grin, finishing off your drink. “Mind if I stop by the ladies room first? You can get the car warmed up and I’ll meet you outside in a couple minutes.”

He nods and rises to his feet, buttoning up his coat. “Take your time.”

By the time you get to the curb, Steve’s Porsche rounds the corner. Sliding into the passenger seat, Steve gives an apologetic look and points to his phone that he holds to his ear.

“And you need it this instant? It can’t wait thirty minutes?” He speaks to the person on the other line. A heavy sigh leaves his lungs and he rolls his eyes. “Alright. I said alright! Fuckin’ pain in my ass.” He ends the call and you look at him with curiosity. “I gotta run by my place before I get you back to yours. It’ll just take a second.”

“Duty calls,” you shrug. “I get it. I have nowhere else to be.”

The drive across the bridge is quiet, but comfortable. The seat warmer, along with your slight buzz, makes you feel at ease. The lights blur together as your fingertips slowly skim over the leather interior of the expensive car.

When he turns into a parking garage of an apartment complex, you look around to observe your surroundings. “Wow. The Rogers mansion sure looks different.”

“I moved out a few months ago. Just use it for work. Meetings, parties, you know.” He puts the car in park and you follow him to the elevator. “Don’t tell Clark.”

You snort. “Don’t want him to know he’s the only one of us who needs to be taken care of? You big softie.”

The doors slide closed and Steve huffs, amused by the thought of someone finding him soft when his reputation is anything but.

“Fuck me,” You gape as you step into the penthouse. It’s almost as nice as yours. Not as big, but still impressive. And for Brooklyn, no less.

“Don’t tempt me, pretty girl.” Steve winks playfully before heading down the hall to tend to business. You don’t follow. Instead, you venture around the vast living room, observing the art work hung on the clean white walls.

The mantle above the fireplace holds pictures of his family and his childhood. You feel a small smile spread across your lips when you spot a picture from his teenage years. Back when you knew him. When you two and Clark would go behind your parents backs and sneak into rated R movies on the weekends.

Footsteps echo from down the hallway. You turn to face Steve and offer him a kind smile. “This place is a babe magnet. You must be fending women off with a stick.”

He scoffs and scratches his bearded jaw. “You’re actually the first woman I’ve had up here. After—“ He stops himself from saying her name and clears his throat. “I bury myself in work. Don’t really get out too much.”

Just because he didn’t go into specifics, doesn’t mean you don’t know what and who he’s referring to. It leaves a bad taste in your mouth, simply because you’re closer in the situation than you wish to be.

“This place, plus that car and those baby blues? You don’t have to try hard, Rogers. Even if you’d take away all the materialistic stuff, you’d still have women eating out of the palm of your hand.”

Steve chuckles and runs a hand through his hair bashfully. “You sure know how to stroke my ego.”

“I’m great at stroking more than just egos, if you’re ever in need of a helping hand.”

The comment was meant to be lighthearted. Its in your nature to taunt. Steve’s been on the receiving end of your harmless flirtation for years. But this time, a switch flips. His eyes become darker in shade. He stares just a little too intensely. It makes you shiver.

“All that teasing is gonna get you in trouble one day, little girl.” He warns, watching you closely, waiting for you to cower under his glare.

But it has the opposite effect.

You tilt your chin up, looking between his eyes and his freshly licked pink lips. “I’ve never had an issue getting out of the trouble I get myself into.”

A soft growl scratches out of Steve’s throat before his mouth is on yours, hands tangled in your hair, lips bruising yours.

Whereas Clark had to bargain with himself to even let you blow him, Steve threw caution to the wind and wrapped the fine leather reigns of his life around his large, calloused hands and took what he wanted. If you were being honest, you couldn’t say you didn’t take pity on the guy. Had he not been with someone since Natasha? You’d never ask him. It’s not your business. But if his needy kisses and desperate touches were any inclination, your suspicions are correct.

You’re thankful when he picks you up and wraps your legs around his waist to take you to the bedroom. Blindly stumbling over your feet around a layout you weren’t familiar with would surely be mood killer. Besides, it allowed you to sink your teeth into the tough skin of his neck, leaving a small red mark on his flesh.

The way he says your name has you soaking through the thin material of your panties. All breathy and wanton. His head cranes back when you tug on his thick locks. He looks up at you with lidded eyes. You lick over your bottom lip as your thumb gently grazes over his, feeling his course beard on your fingertips.

“What do you want me to do?”

The question somewhat stuns him. Your offer to concentrate solely on him, to do whatever he wants is new to him.

His once soft features harden slightly with his narrowed eyes as he switches gears. He lays you on the bed and hovers above you, thick fingers hastily unbuttoning your pants and pushing them down your legs.

“Want you to lay back and enjoy yourself while I taste your pretty little pussy. Wanna hear your voice loud and clear when you cum on my face. Can you do that for me, princess?” Your mouth is dry and brain fails to come up with a response other than a wide eyed nod. “Good.” He grins, freeing you of the lace that conceals you from him.

Silk sheets that smell like ocean breeze bunch up in your fists as soon as he indulges himself in you. Your eyes flutter closed and you gasp when his hands caress your thighs, fingers digging into supple flesh, arms encasing around your legs, encouraging you to squeeze his head as his tongue laps against your clit.

Your back arches when he sucks on your nub. Its such a sinfully delightful sensation to feel him grin against your cunt while his beard scratches over the most intimate part of your body.

A deep growl vibrates in his throat when you pull on his hair.

He likes that.

Oh, he _really_ likes that.

So you do it again and whimper his name when his hands grip your ass, pulling you even further to his mouth, devouring you like a starved man.

“Steve,” You call, but he doesn’t bother answering. “Steve,” You try again, tugging his hair and making him look up at you through long lashes. His name is the only warning you can give when your legs start shaking as you start to spiral out of control.

His mouth is still hot on you, tongue going into a frenzy, licking and tasting every inch of you that he possibly can while two thick, long fingers ease into your slit. He doesn’t have to do much exploring before he finds your sweet spot and curls his fingers over and over and over until your trembling and drenching his chin with your slick.

Steve helps you ride it out, slowing his actions but giving slow kitten licks to your cunt until you sigh contently. His stare is predatory as he wipes a hand over his mouth and crawls over your body.

Just before his lip meet yours, your phone rings.

“That’s my ride.” You inform, pecking his lips softly before shimmying out from underneath him.

He sits on the edge of the bed, brows creased as he watches you get dressed. “You called for a car?”

“Yeah, when we got here. I wasn’t gonna ask you to drive me back to city when you were already home.” You shrug, fixing your hair in the mirror hanging on the wall.

“I mean, I still would’ve…”

“I know,” You smile. “Your mother would be proud of the gentleman she raised.” You kiss him one more time and brush some of his hair from his face. “If you find yourself sticking around after you close the restaurant one night, feel free to stop by so I can repay you. But if the feeling of overwhelming guilt sinks in, I totally get it. Either way, I’ll see you at my place in a few days.” You look back over your shoulder when you reach the doorway. “G’night, Rogers.”

You slide into the backseat of the black SUV and let the driver pull away from the complex before you crawl up to the front passenger seat. “Thanks for picking me up.” You smile sweetly, leaning over the center consul to kiss Bucky’s cheek.

“Of course.” He sighs softly. “Were you able to bug the office without a hitch?”

“Yup. And as a bonus, I got the living room of his apartment.” You grin proudly. “Anything from Kent yet?”

“Nah. Its either casino business or radio silence.” When he pulls up to a stop light, he looks at you. “You really think they were the ones who tried to kill you?”

Your teeth dig into the inside of your lip and you refuse to meet his gaze as you shrug at his question. “They both said they didn’t but I can’t trust their word. I’d be stupid to rule them out completely.” Finally you look at him. “We’ll monitor them for a couple weeks. If we don’t hear anything incriminating or suspicious, we’ll disable the feed and they’ll be none the wiser.”

“And if they find the mics?” He looks at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.”

There’s a bit of gruffness behind Bucky’s heavy sigh, but he knows that arguing with you is a losing battle that he doesn’t have the energy to fight.

“Do I wanna know what you had to do to set these traps?”

You purse your lips and shake your head. “Probably not.”

**Author's Note:**

> please, p l e a s e, take a second to give some feedback! it means a lot and keeps me writing and creating content for y'all!


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